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I see what she means when Sathior saunters into the room moments later wearing baggy pants and an oversized synth sweater. She looks almost like a normal person until I see that she’s placed a headband with a micro veil on her scalp.
A smile crosses my life at the topsy-turvy sight of her. Maz lounges in a rocking chair on his front porch, wearing a feathered vest and high-heeled boots, he looks as ridiculously fashionable as when I left him.
I would say it felt like home, save for the missing piece tugging at my gut.
Garet.
On the night we had together, our bodies were placed in perfect order. Our legs wound tight together like a home I never knew I had. Until I see him again, I don't think I’ll be able to feel right.
Until I see him again, everything just feels off.
“Tania!” Sathior schmoozes as she enters the room. As soon as I'm in arms reach, she embraces me awkwardly. “I was worried sick! Poor Alice had no one to help her with my Burg Linneman jeans this morning. I didn’t know how we would manage.”
The concern on her face is real, though sadly more related to her clothes than my life. But it’s no big deal if the great Sathior Havani can’t be bothered to show genuine compassion for the seamstress she abandoned in the woods. Never mind that I’m only here for her benefit and sworn to secrecy while she cavorts with a designer determined to ruin her career.
Her indifference is my best bet of seeing Garet again. And soon.
Later that night, I can't help but think the irony of our situation is funny. Here I am, ready to lose my job over my own secret lover. We have much more in common than I realized.
Stepping into her suite, Alice and I set Sathior’s hair in long, chunky braids to get her ready for her date with Maz. Tonight’s ensemble would be a joke in any other world.
A massive red flannel gown with leather fringe hangs on her body like a desperate bid for attention. Thank the stars she’sincognito, one pic of this garment and she’d never sell another dress again. Yet the smile beaming across her face tells me what I love most about fashion.
It’s like love, it doesn't have to make sense. Not to anyone but the one who loves it.
“What do you think, girls?” she asks as Alice and I drape a sheer flannel veil over her face. “Do you think he will like it?”
The two of us pause for an answer, but instead of a reply, our rehearsed plan goes into effect.
“I think it’s oh! Oh no! Sathior, I think I’m gonna hurl!”
The designer rushes as quickly as her flannel ballgown will allow, pushing me in the direction of her toilet like a disease.
“Not on the dress you idiot!” she screams, pulling up the fabric at her feet. From inside the bathroom, I feign the best vomit noises this side of Kalei. I can hear the shrieks of my boss as she runs in the other direction.
Whatever work she had planned for me tonight is officially canceled. She heads to her private dinner with Maz without looking at me.
“To bed with you,” she orders, sending me off. “I’ll see you in the morning for wardrobe check.”
“Yes. Sathior. Enjoy your evening.” She leaves for her secret date and I know now is the chance for mine.
With Alice’s help, she managed to talk one of Maz’s security guards into loaning me the hover vehicle for a liquor run. Maz’s men have to follow their own set of inane rules to keep in their employ, and alcohol is strictly forbidden.
“But they won't ask questions if it's you,” he explains, handing over the keys. “Just bring back lots of Zakini cider.”
I make my promises and my escape, and within moments, the fresh night air of Kalei brushes the red-hot flush I feel driving in his direction. I've been away from him for almost 6 hours, but it feels like a lifetime. I can't stand it anymore.
I swing the vehicle into town and head for our designated meeting spot. The faded red paint of the town’s library looks cheerful tonight. Or maybe it's just the excitement of seeing Garet, or the fact that I can see a small flower has been attached to the handles of the return box.
It’s sweet, but, where is Garet?
I find my eyes pouring into the glass doors of the library, hungry for an answer. But the inner contents show only dusty books and a closed interior. Looking around I spot something small and white on the ground nearby.
Bending down, I clasp a small wet handwritten note. The words are unreadable, but in smeared lettering at the bottom, it says:
Garet
I find a seat on a park bench nearby and sitting down I realize I’ve been stupid again. I can't believe it.
